


Amazons & Aliens--the Untold Story of the Great Martian War

by AXEe



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alien Invasion, Alternate History - World War I, Amazons - Freeform, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-16 06:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12337479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AXEe/pseuds/AXEe
Summary: We all know about the Martian War, the period from 1914 to 1918 when Europe was invaded by extraterrestrials and humanity fought as one against the Invaders for the sake of our planet, and we all know about the Amazons, the tribe of all-female warriors, but few of us know about the Amazons who fought in the Martian War.Those few, valiant women who took their culture’s ideals of battle and defense of themselves and others to heart, and gallantly fought in a war against the most destructive force this world has even seen.  What follows is the firsthand account of the War from two Amazons—one British, one American—who fought on the frontline against the Invaders.In their own words we will see both the triumphs and tragedies of the war.





	1. Foreword

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! More original work from me! This one was inspired by three things, first by the idea that what if not did Amazons actually exist, but that they were just another ethic group? So being an Amazon is like being Jewish or of African descent here. Secondly this was inspired by the graphic novel _The Harlem Hellfighters_ by Max Brooks, about the real-life all-black regiment of the U.S. Army who fought on the front lines during World War I, and finally by the excellent mockumentry 'The Great Martian War 1914-1916' which takes H.G Wells' classic alien invasion story and frames it with the First World War, anyone who likes history (like me), I highly recommend that you see if you get the chance.
> 
> Anyway, onwards! :=)

******

The author wishes to thank the curators at the Martian War Museum in London, who have in their possession what is quite possibly one of the most valuable artifacts related to the entire War, even more valuable than Jaeger Letters held by the German Empire, the Musgrave-Forest Diaries, which the Museum has graciously allowed not only to be removed from their dusty archives room but to be copied and reprinted here.

This one-of-a-kind collection of diaries, written during the end of the first year of war and continued throughout towards the end of the War by British solder Samantha ‘Sam’ Musgrave and her later life-long friend American soldier Amelia ‘Amy’ Forest gives us a rare glimpse, not only into the battle tactics and techniques used by the different Allied nations against the Invaders, but also into the minds of the women who fought against the extraterrestrials and into the spirit of the Amazon people as a whole, and reminds us all that, were it not for them, we might have lost Europe, and quite possibly the entire Earth, to the Invaders.

Another interesting fact that is revealed in the Musgrave-Forest Diaries is exactly how the War was won, while it is common knowledge that the equine virus 'Glanders' was deliberately used against the Invaders in one of the first recorded examples of large-scale biological warfare, it was always a mystery as to how the Allies were able to infect such as large number of the Invasion force as they did in only a single attack

Up until now the common consensus had been that the exposure to the large cavalry force amassed by former-American President Theodore Roosevelt, with each horse having been infected with the virus prior to the battle, was responsible, but it now appears that a large part of the Allies victory was due in part to a false flag operation carried out by none other than Sam Musgrave and Amy Forest, both of whom brazenly piloted a captured Alien Tripod into the heart of the alien territory and released a highly-virulent strain of the virus there.

Ever since this information became public it has sparked controversy, most prominently the fact that two human beings could not possibly have successfully piloted an alien war machine into the midst of battle without weeks or months of training beforehand.

Recently declassified government documents from the United Kingdom, the United States, the German Empire, Austria-Hungary, the Soviet Union, and the Ottoman Empire, however, have revealed that in fact the Allies knew much more about the mechanics of both the Tripods and the Hoppers than was revealed to the public at the time, and studies and tests done on the capabilities of the Tripods control systems in the last ten years has provided further evidence to back up this claim.


	2. A Brief Summary of the Amazons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update!

******

Before we begin it has been pointed out that there are still some who are confused as to the exact definition of what allows one woman to declare herself an Amazon and prevents another from the same, as well as the confusion that may arise from the references to things like ‘Seleneism’.

Put simply the Amazons are the female members of an ethno-religious group who originated from an ancient mytho-historic tribe of warriors, whose true origins—and indeed even the location and name of their homeland—has been largely lost to history, what little information that does exist, remains in the form of a rich oral history, and the Amazons as both a culture and a people share similarities with both the Jewish people and the ancient Spartans.

Like modern-day Jews, being an Amazon is both a religion and an ethnic and cultural heritage at the same time. In modern times the question of Amazonian identity is restricted largely to women, as only women can be considered ‘true’ Amazons, while any man born to an Amazon mother is seen merely as the male child of an Amazon and is not raised as an Amazon in any way.

According to Amazon oral history, their people once lived in the stars on the surface of the Moon as the children of the goddess of the Moon Selene, but the ancient men of the Amazon tribe soon grew prideful and forced their own women into slavery. Insulted that they would take her generosity for granted, Selene freed the women of the tribe and sent them to earth, instructing them to never be slaves to men again, telling them to be either ‘equals or enemies’ to men but not slaves, to this day the Amazons honor Selene in the form of the modern-day religion Seleneism.

While this origin story is just that, a story, it did inspire the culture of the Amazons to that which we see today. Like the Spartans of ancient Greece, the Amazons crafted a warrior culture segregated along gender lines. In ancient Amazon culture, male children were either killed, abandoned in the wilderness, or—if they were kept—were taught to maintain the household and other domestic duties, while the women of the tribe were taught martial arts and were generally raised to be the providers and protectors.

Much like the ancient Israelites, the Amazons were eventually exiled from their home by an unknown force (possibly an invasion or natural disaster) and forced into a mostly nomadic lifestyle, wandering the earth. Much like modern-day Jews, they settled in various parts of the world, where they were largely discriminated and outright persecuted wherever they went, with many Western nations or those with large Christian populations seeing the Amazons as a threat to ‘traditional’ values.

Indeed during the Martian War many Amazons, most significantly those serving with the American Expeditionary Force (AEF), were forced to serve in non-coed units under male commanders and were forbidden from fraternizing with their male counterparts.

By comparison, their British counterparts in the British Expeditionary Force—although also serving in gender segregated units under male commanders—were not as strictly discouraged from fraternization with their male counterparts (although it was still frowned upon). At one point in their history there was a large number of Amazons living in the Mediterranean, which greatly influenced their culture and language, including using the Greek name for the Moon ‘Selene’ in reference to their creator.

The warrior mentality that the Amazons devoted themselves to remains ingrained in their cultural consciousness to this day, and even now Amazon children are taught a variety of martial arts and self-defense techniques, even though most of them will probably never have any reason to necessity to call upon these skills

**Amazons in the Martian War**

During the Martian War the prohibition on women serving in the armed forces were relaxed or voided by many of the governments of the Allied nations due to large shortages of manpower—most notably by the Russian Empire in the form of the Woman’s Battalion—although they failed to generate the propaganda value that was expected of them and were later disbanded. In the ensuing Russian Civil War the Bolsheviks also made use of Woman’s Battalions (although it should be noted that none of these women were Amazons).

Although the prohibition against women serving in the military was lifted by many of the Allies, there were still some restrictions, most notably the fact that many ‘active’ combat roles were restricted to Amazons, and non-Amazons served mostly as nurses and in clerical work, many modern historians and feminists have also pointed out that this restriction on allowing ‘only’ Amazons to serve on the frontlines could also be seen as being discriminatory in and of itself, as it possibly sent the message that Amazons were not ‘women’ but ‘something’ else.

The two most well-remembered Amazon units are the American ‘470th Volunteer Infantry Regiment’ (which was more commonly also known as the ‘Oakland Outcasts’, having been based in Oakland, California) and the British ‘553rd Gloucester Volunteer Infantry Regiment’, both units were composed entirely of volunteer Amazon-Americans and British-Amazons, each under the command of a single male officer.

Initially, these two Amazon units were largely more for show; intended to appease the people by showing how ‘progressive’ both the U.S. and the Great Britain, and by extension, the British Empire were (Amazons in both nations were at the forefront of the suffragette movement), as it was famously believed that the Invaders would be defeated _‘by Christmas’_ , owing to the valor and courage of the Allied soldiers, of course thinking that the Aliens could be defeated in only a few short months was wishful thinking at best and foolish at worst.

By Christmas of 1914, the 553rd was already deep in the trenches, fighting off alien war machines as well as disease carried by lice and rats, and facing sexual harassment and discrimination from other, all-male units, all without managing to gain a single foot of territory against the Invaders. Not to mention leadership by incompetent generals who put their faith in the frontal assault and other antiquated tactics which were not only incompatible with the modern weaponry of the day but also extremely ineffective against the Tripods’ weaponry—most significantly the heat-ray—which allowed the Aliens to easily massacre any soldiers caught out in No Man’s Land, vaporizing whole swaths of men and women like a wildfire burning a prairie.

The sinking of the _HMS Thunder Child_ and the loss of all 300 men onboard on October 19th 1914 is commonly accepted as the catalyst that galvanized the other Allied nations (most significantly the United States) to actually commit their Amazon soldiers to the front, largely in a desperate attempt to win the war, as the presence of Alien war machines in the Atlantic shipping lanes threatened to cut off the vital supply lines needed to keep the war effort going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Historical fact: The 'Women's Battalions' of pre-Soviet Russia actually existed


	3. The Invaders

******

The most common misconception about the War is that the Invaders came from Mars, owing in part to a large bright series of lights being seen by astronomers just a few days before the first cylinders crashed down in Germany. In truth, we do not know where they came from. Tests done by NASA during the Viking mission and the more recent Pathfinder and Sojourner probes sent to Mars revealed no evidence of life, or indeed any sign of the planet having ever even been an outpost of some kind—a theory offered in place of the ‘Martian Theory’.

The manned Ares One mission, undertaken in 1989, further showed a lack of evidence to support the long-held theory that the Invaders were Martians. For now, as to the Invaders true identity and origins, we can only speculate.

**Biology**

In terms of biology, the Invaders are possibly the strangest creatures ever discovered by modern science. Their bodies consisted of a large ‘head’ approximately four feet wide on average, with two large eyes and a beak-like mouth. On either side of the mouth were two ‘branches’ of four ‘whip-like’ tentacles, making eight in total. These tentacles are incredibly strong, able to break a person’s arm simply by applying pressure.

The Invaders reproduced asexually, with the child ‘budding’ off from the parent. Internally, the Invaders possess a four-lobbed brain, eyes, a heart, two lungs, and blood vessels. They do not appear to possess any digestive organs—at least none that modern science has been able to identify, and it remains unclear what, if anything, that they eat (claims of the Invaders draining the blood of captured humans has long been suspect).

Their large, single ‘ear’ is in the form of a large membrane at the back of the head, and they appear to posses something resembling vocal cords, as the only living alien captured by the Allies was heard to make—what observers described as—a ‘queer hooting’ sound. It is known, however, that they can appear to communicate telepathically and indeed seemed to take a kind of sadistic pleasure in mentally torturing people, as the lone Tripod pilot subjected the various members of Allied High Command to visions of other worlds that the Aliens appear to have invaded prior to being shot and killed.

**Technology and weaponry**

In terms of technology, the Invaders were extremely advanced by early-20th century standards. Their most recognizable piece of technology was the fearsome ‘Tripod’ also called the ‘fighting-machine’ or simply ‘walkers’, each of which was piloted by a single Invader. Towering one hundred feet above the battlefield, the Invaders used these awesome weapons to full effect, in addition to their shear size; the Tripods were armed with a so-called ‘heat-ray’, a directed-energy weapon capable of incinerating whole battalions in a matter of seconds, utilizing the production of pure heat energy through a process still not yet fully understood.

As well as the heat-ray, the Tripods also used the dreaded ‘black smoke’ a toxic chemical weapon that killed both humans and animals if inhaled. Fortunately, the black smoke, although famed as a weapon of terror, was actually large ineffective in actual combat. Being denser and heavier than air, the substance could be avoided by climbing to higher ground, it was also only toxic if inhaled, if not inhaled the substance was harmless even if the intended victim had an open wound as long as they did not breath the substance they could survive. The black smoke could be countered by steam or water, exposure to which caused it to dissolve into a fine, powdery, ash-like substance.

Even without the heat-ray or the black smoke, the Tripods had other weapons at their disposal, most notably possessing a set of tentacles themselves. These tentacles—nicknamed the ‘ribbons of death’ by soldiers—were used to frightening efficiently. As one solider described they could be used to _’…strangle us, stab us, rip us bodily from the trench, or even rip us in half while still alive’_.

In addition to the Tripods, the Aliens also used a smaller, unmanned version known as ‘Hoppers’, due to their tendency to literally ‘hop’ onto the battlefield. Made from materials scavenged from the battlefield, the Hoppers did not appear until November of 1914, leading many to speculate that they were designed as an alternative to the Tripods.

The Hoppers operate through a version of what we would now call ‘artificial intelligence’, and appear to possess a rudimentary intelligence. During Operation Ares, where a sole Tripod and its pilot were successfully captured, the two Hoppers accompanying the Tripod appeared to ‘change sides’ and actually helped to move the massive Tripod back to Allied territory. Scientists think that the Hoppers appear to defer to whatever authority is in the area, with the Tripod down, the two Hoppers saw the Humans as its ‘masters’ and began to help them, even going so far as to marching into battle alongside the Allies during the final assault.

The two Hoppers currently remain on exhibit at the Martian War Museum in London in full working order and can be seen ‘waving’ to museum visitors as they pass.


	4. The Musgrave Diaries--Prelude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update time! Enjoy! :=)

******

_Editors note_

_Although the Musgrave-Forest Diaries are quite possibly the most complete, first-hand account of the War, sadly due to their age and condition—most notably the fact that both women carried the diaries on their person into actual combat—there are several passages which have been tragically lost to history. Some it appears were simply lost, either having been torn or disintegrated due to age. While others, it appears were deliberately removed by the writers, the pages having been carefully and methodically removed._

_As what these pages contain and what Sergeants Musgrave and Forest refuse to tell us from beyond the grave (both women died in the late-1980s and have no surviving relatives), we can only speculate, were they secret battle plans perhaps? Perhaps stronger, clearer accounts of the rampant sexual discrimination that the Allied High Command didn’t wish to be made public? Love letters? (a romantic relationship between the two women has long been speculated but never proven)._

__

__

_We can never truly know. Despite the best efforts of the author and her publishers, we can only restore so much of the original text, and, although efforts have been made on the part of the publisher and editors to ensure an almost-complete running commentary, there are some parts of the story that have been irrevocably lost._

_Despite that, here in lays the most complete first-hand account of the War and of the women who fought it. It is our sincere hope that you will not only enjoy this story, but that you will perhaps come to honor and care for these two women as we have._

_\--A. Edwards. Senior editor, A.X.E. Publishers, San Francisco, CA, 2014_

******

**The Diary of Sgt. Samantha Musgrave  
553rd Gloucester Volunteer Infantry Regiment  
British Expeditionary Force**

Some called it the ‘Great War’ due to the suddenness of the invasion, and others called it the ‘War to end all Wars’, and others further still called it the ‘European War’, while many in the press took to calling it the ‘Martian War’ or the ‘War of the Worlds’, but those of us who were on frontlines, who saw the Invaders firsthand, quickly developed another name for it.

Hell on earth

It would be over by Christmas they had told us. The War would be over by then, through sheer courage and determination we, the British Empire above all other nations, would single-handedly defeat the Invaders, our allies, the French, the Germans, the Italians, and the Turks, would merely help us mop up the mess left behind, even the Americans, who had declared themselves neutral upon the beginning of the invasion, wouldn’t be truly needed.

They were wrong.

Christmastime would come and go three times over before the War’s end. We would all still be deep in the trenches, knee-deep in filth and disease-ridden rats those three Christmases, waiting in dread for the order, the cry of ‘over the top’ from our commanders, the order which we would heed, and hurl ourselves over the top of the trenches to face certain death, to face the Tripods and their heat-ray which with a single blast could incinerate scores of men almost instantly, and the dreaded black smoke, that strange chemical of Alien origin which choked and strangled all who dared to breath it.

The Invaders dragged all countries into their war, some so large that the sun would never set on them, others smaller than the smallest United State, and none emerged unscathed.

Disease.

Famine.

Even one case of mass murder that would one day be given a name: ‘genocide’.

And those were only the civilian deaths, not counting the ‘battlefield casualties’, all the poor, gullible fools who followed their flags into battle, all seventy million of them.

Sixteen million of those seventy million dead in the war, sixteen million, from every nation, every race, every creed, every faith, civilian and soldier alike, sixteen million died. It’s hard to imagine that many people even being alive, let alone dead. But maybe we should simplify it, let’s say ten thousand, ten thousand you say is not that much, that’s like a small city you say, but that’s how many died a day, every day, for over four years of fighting,

And that’s only what they think is the total number of dead, no one will ever know for sure

Like so many others of my people, I had heeded the call from His Majesty’s government

‘AMAZONS, BRITAIN NEEDS YOU; ENLIST IN THE VOLUNTEER REGIMENTS TODAY!!’

Like oh so many others, male or female, I had believed that it was my patriotic duty as a citizen of the British Empire, my duty to my King, to heed that call, and as a young, unmarried tomboyish woman of only nineteen, I did not perceive the inherent danger, all I saw was a chance to be counted, a chance to prove to others that my grandmother’s words of ‘You should be proud of what you are, Samantha, you should proud to be an Amazon’ were not just mere words, a chance to prove that women everywhere, not just Amazons, could be just as courageous as men, to prove that ‘votes for women’ was not just a slogan, but rallying cry for future generations.

God, what a fool I’d been.

But as I said, when you’re a nineteen year old adolescent you think that you’re invincible, so when you see a fight break out, you get the foolish notion into your head that the best course of action is to join in. So I had volunteered, joining the 553rd Gloucester Volunteer Infantry Regiment, we were what some might call ‘unique’, our ranks were composed of people from all over the Empire, every social class, every race, every faith, only one thing remained constant, we were all Amazons.

We were also initially intended for nothing but pomp and circumstance, a grand pageant for the masses, something for the people to see and proclaim ‘look, see how progressive we British are, we not only gave women the vote, but now we’re letting them play soldier’, we were meant for anything but actual combat

But that all changed on October 19th 1914, when the HMS Thunder Child, a vessel of the Royal Navy was leaving port on the English coast, headed to America both to pick up much needed supplies and unload hundreds of refugees fleeing the War. Three minutes after the Thunder Child left the safety of the docks, an Alien war machine burst from the water. There was no time to react; no time to man the lifeboats, in an instant the Alien machine struck the Thunder Child with its heat-ray, sinking it, killing the three hundred men onboard and innumerable civilians in an instant.

Only one survived, out of three hundred, only one, one little girl who had clung to a piece of wreckage.

Later that same month, I quickly learned firsthand what a foolish girl I’d been when I had enlisted after our unit was deployed to the French-German border to fight the Invaders, I saw people I had come to call friend be vaporized in an instant by the Invader’s heat-ray.

I saw other people I didn’t know choke and gag on the vicious black smoke, I learned to shiver in fear at the Tripods awesome mechanical howl, to cower and hold as still as possible when their metal tendrils—what the first solders on the front had rather poetically termed the ‘ribbons of death’—came slithering into the trenches, stabbing and grabbing anyone who moved, and I learned to spare little sympathy for the fallen, for my very survival depended on it.

To you who reads these words, I hope and pray that you never see the horrors I saw, that you and your kin never see friends and comrades be incinerated in an instant. That you never see strong men break and run into the field of fire screaming for their mothers. And most of all, that you never see the bodies of countless children cut down like a field of wheat by a monstrous force beyond this world, possessed by a monstrous intelligence beyond comprehension.

It would all be over by Christmas they had said to us

Goddamned fools.


	5. The Yanks Are A'coming

******

**Ypres, Belgium**  
**The 25th of December, 1914  
Midnight**

“Cold tonight, Sergeant” Colonel Fairservice remarked, swiping at the ice on his beard and mustache before replacing his pipe in his mouth, I pulled the thin woolen blanket that was wrapped around my shoulders tighter around myself and nodded shakily

“Yes, sir,” I answered, the mist from my breath curling in the air in front of my face like a serpent “quiet too, sir” I added, Colonel Fairservice nodded

“Yes, there is that,” he agreed “they’re being awfully quiet tonight” as he spoke there was a quiet, almost rhythmic, pulse of light from the Invader’s trenches

“Quiet,” I reaffirmed “but not still” through the haze of light there were strange shadows and looming shapes that up until a few months ago no human could have perceived, every now and then you could catch a glimpse of one of the Tripods, they would stand almost perfectly still, except for their domed ‘head’ which would swivel back and forth, and the fearsome ribbons of death which would twitch and writhe almost like snakes beneath the head in anticipation before striking.

“No,” the Colonel agreed “not still,” as he sat there idly puffing away on his pipe I took the opportunity to study him. Colonel Ambrose Fairservice was a tall man with fair hair, a veteran of the Second Boer War his most distinguishing feature was his amputated left arm, the limb was now gone below the elbow, vaporized by a Martian heat-ray during the early days of the war. Despite this grievous, and some might say—debilitating—injury he still burned with a desire to serve his country and his empire, and most importantly, to win the war “tell me, Sergeant,” he said suddenly with a chuckle “I’ve always wondered, what’s a lovely young girl like yourself doing here in this godforsaken place?” he asked

Somewhat stymied for an answer, I must admit I stammered and stuttered somewhat before finally being able to respond

“Uh, well, sir,” I began “if you had asked that a few months ago, I suspect my answer would have been something along the lines of ‘it was my patriotic duty’, but now…” I trailed off

“But now…?” the Colonel prompted me

“I don’t really know, sir” I answered, he nodded as if he expected that to be my answer

“Fair enough, Sergeant Musgrave,” he said, he frowned suddenly and let out a disgruntled ‘hrump’ “hmm, my hearing must be going” he grumbled

“Sir?” I inquired

“Oh, it’s nothing, Sergeant, it’s just that I could have sworn I heard singing” he explained, I frowned and listened, and I gasped as I realized that the old man was right! I heard it as well, singing, caroling actually, I could distinctly hear singing coming from the German trenches to our right

“With respect, sir, it’s not your hearing, sir,” I exclaimed in both shock and wonder “it _is_ singing!”

“What? Singing?” one of the sentries asked, another Amazon like myself “cor blimy!” she exclaimed, her cockney accent as thick as a winter’s fog “where’d you ‘ear singing from, Sergeant?”

“It’s the Germans,” I explained, suddenly animated, I stood somewhat and turned towards the German trenches, only twenty or thirty yards away from our own, our own trenches and the Germans were not separated in any way, in fact they formed a large unbroken semicircle, dug out in such a fashion in the hopes of encircling the Aliens own defensive embankments.

Despite this, up until now, each country’s soldiers had mostly kept to themselves, the agreements that had been hastily signed by the governments of Great Britain, France, Germany, Austria-Hungary, and the Ottoman Empire which had formed the so-called ‘Allied nations’, did not really allow for cooperation between the armies of each nation, instead it was more of an agreement to not fire on each other while each group fired on the Aliens.

As such up until then the term ‘allies’ was largely nothing more than a generic catch-all term as each nation had fought independently against the Aliens, unsurprisingly this tactic was…less than successful to be perfectly blunt.

But now, as I stood listening to the Germans singing, I felt a surge of hope fill me, perhaps now we might put aside out petty differences and unite as one against a common foe “hello?!” I called out, the singing briefly stopped and now I could see the dim, flicking glow of candlelight coming from the German lines.

“Hello!” a surprisingly cheerful male voice called back in heavily-accented English

“Hello!” I called back “was that you singing just now?!” I asked

“Yes,” the same man called back “is Christmastime, nein?”

“Yes,” I called back in agreement, suddenly feeling more animated than before, I franticly searched my uniform pockets for something, finally stumbling upon a partially crushed pack of cigarettes that were in my breast pocket, which was strange as I—like many women at that time—did not smoke, at least not in public, Colonel Fairservice opened his mouth as if to speak or even reprimand me for talking to the Germans, but then stopped, he chuckled suddenly and shook his head

“Bloody hell,” he muttered to me “its Christmas, we’re at war with invaders from beyond this world, and here we are, worried about being shot at by our own allies”

“My thoughts exactly, sir” I said. Standing up I called out again “I’m coming over! And I am unarmed!”

“Ja, ja!” the same voice called out “I come too, we meet halfway?”

“Yes” I agreed, I could hear muttering from the others behind me, as the other women in our all-female, all-Amazon unit began to agree with me. Briefly looking back over my shoulder I could see them also scrambling around for impromptu gifts, turning back I walked the twenty or thirty yards to the German part of the trench, meeting with a young German officer, a lieutenant I believe, if I understood his insignia correctly.

He seemed somewhat shocked and surprised to see a woman standing before him in full uniform instead of a man, which was no surprise to me given that, at that time, Amazons were largely marginalized in Germany in keeping with Kaiser Wilhelm’s policy of confining women in general to the spheres of ‘children, kitchen, church’, and thinking back, I must admit I probably gave the young man quite a shock. Back then, at the young age of nineteen, I was quite a pretty young thing, with my dark hair and somewhat hawkish face and nose which bespoke of my Mediterranean ancestry, like most other Amazons.

Hastily, the German officer stood upright and fumbled to remove his helmet. He somewhat shyly stammered out a greeting, I smiled in return and handed him the cigarettes, he in return quickly snipped off one of the buttons on his tunic and handed to me, behind us both our comrades were crowding around us, exchanging greetings and gifts, and soon the German and myself found ourselves lost among the throng.

I finally managed to extricate myself from the mob and returned to the place I had been sitting before; Colonel Fairservice still sat there, puffing away on his pipe, a scrap of paper in his hand

“Ah, Sergeant,” he exclaimed upon seeing me “still in one piece I hope?” he joked

“Yes, sir,” I answered “although I do have a ‘trophy’ from my ‘opponent’” I explained, holding up the button

“Ah,” the Colonel remarked “a collector, are you?” he asked, I could only shrug in response “well then,” he continued “you might like this for a Christmas present,” he handed me the paper, which I saw now was a telegram “the Americans are sending volunteer regiments” he explained, I looked up at him, excited

“They’re finally joining the war, sir?” I asked

“Officially, no,” he explained “but they are sending over volunteers, you might like who they’re sending” he added, I looked down at the telegram. It read

AMERICANS SENDING VOLUNTEER AMAZON UNITS…EXPECTED TO ARRIVE SECOND OF JANUARY IF NOT SOONER…AMAZONS TO BE TRAINED BY 553…MESSAGE ENDS

Although elated at this news, I was still somewhat confused

“Why are we training them, sir?” I asked “shouldn’t the Americans have already trained them themselves?”

“Apparently,” the Colonel began “a majority of the American populace still support neutrality,” he began “so, it appears that the government would rather not be seen to even be _considering_ ending neutrality by actually training soldiers to fight, as such these women were only given the most basic training” he explained

“And we’re to pick up the slack, are we, sir?” I asked

“Something like that, Sergeant,” he answered “still,” he added “they would be welcome and much-needed reinforcements, provided that we can train them in time” he sighed and refilled his pipe “oh, well, I wouldn’t worry about it now,” he said, lighting the pipe “after all, it is Christmas” he added, I nodded

“Yes, sir” I agreed, grinning

******

**The 1st of January 1915**

I was awoken the next morning by shouts and screams. Franticly throwing off my bedcovers, I grabbed my rifle and helmet, and rushed out into the trench to see hell unfold once more. The other soldiers were already firing upwards at an angle as a large metallic shape loomed overhead, straddling either side of the trench itself. 

A Hopper.

Named so for their tendency to literally ‘hop’ into the battlefield, they weren’t seen until around the fourth month of the war, and many thought that they were not originally part of the Invaders weaponry, but were instead built ‘on-site’ as it were, to handle trench warfare once it became clear that the Tripods monstrous size precluded them from successfully attacking us if we dug in below the surface of the battlefield, although they shared the same tripod structure and domed head.

Unlike the Tripods, the Hoppers differed in design, while the Tripods possessed an almost-organic design, resembling an insect in some ways, with long, thin legs as flexible as a human being’s and long, thin, whip-like tendrils, the Hoppers, by contrast, looked more mechanical, with thick, wholly mechanical legs with clearly defined joints.

The Hoppers also differed from the Tripods in other ways, they did not carry the heat-ray or the black smoke, but they did possess the ribbons of death, which were thicker and more like a cable than a whip, each tip of a Hopper’s ribbons was capped with a razor-sharp spearhead, unlike a Tripod’s which had a rounded tip like a tentacle.

Like those around me, I knew all too well that the Hoppers—like the Tripods—used these fearsome ribbons to deadly effect, the spearheads were used to stab at us, slice us, impale us and rip us bodily out of the trench like fish on a hook. Even without the spear tip, the ribbons themselves could rip our weapons from our hands, strangle us, wrap around our bodies and crush us like an egg, or even rip us in half whilst still alive.

Knowing this, I gathered up my courage, and remembering my heritage as an Amazon, I dropped into a firing stance and raised my rifle, firing at the main body of the Hopper, where the three legs met, as the others were doing, our bullets ricocheting off the Hopper’s metallic skin, sending up sparks. A common misconception that I have heard time and time again is the belief that the Invaders war machines were somehow protected by an invisible shield of some kind, a barrier that protected them from harm, that our artillery shells merely bounced off or harmlessly impacted an impenetrable barrier before it actually reached the machine itself.

In reality no such barrier existed, and our bullets and artillery shells could, and did indeed, make contact with a Tripod’s hull, and were even successful in taking out a Tripod at times, the only problem was that the Tripods and Hoppers were constructed from some form of Alien metallurgy that appeared to be largely resilient to our weapons, a full barrage of artillery served to only slow their assault and, at close range, make them stagger and stumble, indeed our typical tactic was to hammer at them with enough artillery to, hopefully, make them give up the assault after a time, and the times that we succeeded in destroying a Tripod were far and few between.

As our assault on the Hopper went on it moved slowly down, effectively ‘squatting’ down over the trench, the ribbons uncoiling and bearing down on us, some who had already expended their ammunition took to a frantic stabbing upwards with their bayonets, and while bayonets had no effect upon an enemy encased in a towering metal machine, they did have some advantages, namely whenever a Hopper attempted to wrench the weapons from our hands, they would often grab at the bayonet rather than the barrel, thus giving the holder a chance to either wrestle the weapon free or lay on a few more shots.

Some of us even took to parrying the ribbon’s thrust with their bayonets like a fencer, only for the ribbon to coil back on itself to stab or crush the soldier in question in an instant.

Suddenly from our left came a shout in German and the same German troops that we had exchanged Christmas gifts with, and even those we did not know, emerged from their own trenches onto no man’s land and began their own assault upon the Hopper.

At present one of the German officer signaled to the others and gave a command of 

“ _Flammenwerfer!_ ”

Two Germans soldiers then came up, one wore a type of large tank on his back while the other carried and aimed a large hose at the end of which a small flame flickered. Suddenly a jet of flame erupted from the hose with a roar and a massive wave of overwhelming heat, spraying up at the Hopper. All the while the men operating the strange weapon began to frantically chant ‘ _gott mit uns! Gott mit uns!!!_ ’.

God is with us, they were crying. Somehow I doubted He was. I doubted even my own Goddess was with us.

The Hopper almost-instantly reared back onto its third leg, staggering back away from the trench, planting all three of its legs onto sold ground, it pivoted slightly, one of its ribbons rearing up like a snake before stabbing down on the two Germans, stabbing and impaling them both, with a sudden sharp whistle the tank of fuel for the German ‘flame thrower’ suddenly exploded with a deafening roar, forcing those of us still in the trench to take cover as flaming shards of metal and human remains flew in all directions.

Quickly scrambling up onto my hands and knees and peering up I saw that the Hopper’s ribbon, the same one that had impaled to the two German soldiers mere seconds ago had been _severed_! At least half of it was missing; the now ragged and torn remnant twitched and writhed in spasms as torrents of some strange thick red fluid gushed out of it.

“Musgrave!” Colonel Fairservice bellowed “are you hurt? _Sergeant?!_ ”

With a gasp, I franticly searched myself and found to my great relief that aside from a few cuts and minor bruises I was otherwise uninjured, the same, however, could not be said for many of my comrades, already I could hear cries from the other women in my unit for stretcher bearers and the medics.

Colonel Fairservice put a whistle to his lips and blew on it “all right, those still capable of fighting over the top!” that dreaded command of ‘over the top’ was passed along the ranks of the uninjured and we quickly reloaded our rifles, made sure our gas masks were still functioning properly and then hurled ourselves up the ladders and over the top of the trench and into no man’s land.

As we cleared the top of the trench and broke out into a run, joined by our French allies to the right and the Germans and Austria-Hungarians to the right, a sudden shadow fell across the earth, a monstrous form the same basic shape of a Hopper but much, much larger, at least as half as tall as Big Ben, its footsteps shaking the earth beneath our feet. 

How to describe such a thing? imagine a tripod, like that used by photographers, except each leg is as flexible as a man's with no visible joints or pivots. Atop these legs place a large, flattened sphere with a large single green 'eye' in its center. From beneath the head hung dozens of long, whip-like tentacles, each long enough that they dragged along the ground.

These were the Invader's true weapons, the true reason they were able to withstand us for so long. As one reporter wrote ' _Once a Tripod comes in, no more news comes out_ '.

“Tripod!!” came the sudden shout from those at the front of the charge as the massive machine let out a mechanical bellow like a foghorn but deeper and more metallic, the tone so loud that it set our teeth on edge and vibrated through our chests just before our artillerymen opened fire, hammering the alien machine with all their might. 

The Tripod stumbled and staggered as the shells exploded against its skin before it halted its advance and raised a large tube-like device which it held horizontally to its body in an articulated arm, the tube let out a loud ‘whoosh’-like sound accompanied by a puff of steam, a large mortar-like shell flew from the tube to smash down in our midst, breaking open upon impact to release a thick cloud of a black substance which rather than floating up like many gases instead sank to swirl around our heads, the smell was thick, like that of gasoline or oil.

“Black smoke! Black smoke!” someone shouted

“Masks on!!” Colonel Fairservice ordered as we all scrambled to affix our gas masks, those few who fumbled or were unable to get the mask on properly or in time almost-instantaneously fell to the ground writhing in agony as they clawed at their throats, choking and gasping to breathe, dying almost seconds later.

I was one of those fortunate enough to get my mask on in time, but even then, though the mask may have saved my life there was the still-ever present, almost-overwhelming feeling of isolation, inside the mask your vision is limited to the lenses, and your voice and hearing are muffled, in fact all you can really hear with any real clarity is the muffled rasp of your own breathing, so even though there are others beside you, you still can’t help but feel alone.

Despite this, I pushed these thoughts aside and continued on firing up at the Tripod as we charged, another articulated arm rose up from the Tripod’s body, this time bearing a large box-like device that looked very much like a camera, puffs of green steam swirled around the tube-like protrusion in the front of the device. This time the cry of pure terror came from my own throat

“ _ **HEAT-RAY!!!**_ ” I heard myself scream, hoping that I could be heard through the gas mask’s filter “ _ **FALL BACK!!! FALL BACK!! RETREAT! RETREAT!!**_ ” I bellowed.

At once our entire infantry turned as one and began running back to the safety of the trenches as a conical beam of white light emerged from the box to sweep from side-to-side across the battlefield like a searchlight, those it touched instantly burst into a searing white flame, leaving behind charred, black malformed cinders that could barely be recognized as having once been alive, let alone having once been a human being.

The heat was so intense that those who were killed didn’t even have a chance to scream in pain or shock, some like Colonel Fairservice had, only got a limb caught in beam of the heat-ray, the affected limb would burst into flame before effectively ‘melting’ (for lack of a better word) off the rest of the body.

Those of us who made it back to the trench alive wasted no time with the ladders, instead diving in head-first into the mud and filth at the bottom of the trenches, many of us landing on top of one another in a tangled heap of limbs, some of us simply kept running until there was no more ground beneath their feet, falling into the trench feet-first, many landing at such an angle that they broke one or both of their ankles, if not their entire leg, in the process.

From above the Tripod’s heat-ray passed over the top of the trench with a sizzling hiss, searing the tops of the wooden palisades and ladders, before the Tripod itself gave another rumbling howl and then we could hear the Hoppers retreating and the sizzling hiss of the heat-ray quieted.

In the silence that remained only a few wisps of black smoke remained as the heavier-than-air substance sank into the trench itself, but as long as we kept our gas masks on we would be safe, the substance appeared to only be fatal if inhaled, even those of us who had open wounds would be unaffected as long as they wore their gas masks

“Steamers!” Colonel Fairservice ordered, and a few of us who could still move rushed to grab the tanks of pressurized water, which like the German flame thrower were connected to a hose and nozzle which we sprayed randomly at the clouds of black smoke. We had learned quickly early on in the course of the war that the black smoke dissipated upon coming into contact with water, leaving behind a greasy black film which resembled the scum found in ponds, which although foul smelling, was harmless, aside from the fact that it permanently stained clothing

“Clear!” someone called out as the last of the substance dissipated, and we were finally free to remove our masks, I felt a great sense of relief fill me as I took off the mask and was finally free of its confines

“Stretcher bearers! On the double!” Colonel Fairservice ordered as he took off his mask, and the medics rushed out, quickly gathering up the wounded and rushing them to the medical sectors, which were large, semi-enclosed areas of the trenches were the wounded were treated and stabilized so they could be transferred to a field hospital.

A young nurse rushed up to me bearing bandages and sutures 

“Are you all right, sir?” she asked “what are your—oh!” her eyes widened in surprise and shock as she realized, that beneath the slimy film of the black smoke and the dirt and mud of the trench, there was a young woman staring back at her rather than a young man

“I’m fine,” I told her “tend to the others” in truth I was actually quite bruised and was fairly certain that the tumble I’d just taken head-first into the trench had probably cracked at least one of my ribs. The nurse continued to stare at me

“You…” she started “you’re…you’re an Amazon, aren’t you?” she asked

“Yes,” I answered tightly, getting impatient with her idleness “now tend to the others!” I ordered, with a start she nodded and rushed off to one of the stretcher bearers, no doubt receiving yet another shock as she realized that our entire regiment was composed entirely of Amazons. I continued to sit there in the mud catching my breath and still somewhat angered at the nurse’s reaction to my gender when a French soldier came over and sat down next to me

“You gave the little nurse quite a shock, _non_?” he asked in accented English

“ _Qui_ ,” I answered, which is admittedly the only real French I know “we’re something of an oddity,” I explained “something to be gawked at” I added, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice

“It is understandable;” he said with a nod “there are not many of your kind in our army as well, you Amazons have become something of a…how do you say…myth among many,” he continued, I nodded “in fact, there are many who say that having Amazons fighting alongside men is a myth, that women, even Amazons, could not fight as well as men,” I beginning to get angry and was about to confront him, when he suddenly smirked “but of course,” he added “they said that intelligent creatures from Mars were a myth as well, _non_? So now you could say that Amazons in fact _can_ fight as well as men, _qui_? That maybe even one day women, not just Amazons, might actually _lead_ men into battle. Wouldn’t that be something to see!” he exclaimed with an excited grin “I would very much like to see that” he added, I chuckled and nodded, liking his logic

“You seem to have a very high opinion of Amazons,” I noted “why is that?” I asked

“Ah,” he said with a smile “my _Maman_ , my mother, was an Amazon,” he explained he smirked at my surprised expression “so,” he added “I suppose that would make us kindred in a way”

“In a way” I agreed with a nod, he nodded back and surprised me further

“May your blade be at rest” he said as he stood to leave, giving me the traditional farewell of the Amazons.

I bid him farewell as well and sat there, ruminating on his words…

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought :=)


End file.
